


Assignment

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [10]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: Eve is not much enamoured with her next art project.





	

Eve is not much enamoured with her next art project. “I mean, friendship? What are we, twelve?” she huffs down the phone.

Her mother pauses and her voice takes on that distinctive concerned parent tone. “Darling, you are making friends, aren't you?”

She sighs and scuffs her toe on the floor. “Sure, mum, don't worry so much.”

“It's just that you haven't told us about anyone and we worry-”

“Mum, I have to go. Love you,” she says quickly and hangs up. It's not that Eve hasn't made any friends since moving to London for university; she likes her flatmates well enough and she's made friends on her course. It's only that she isn't close with any of them and doesn't dare ask if she can draw them.

Crossly, she picks up her sketchbook, wraps herself up in a coat and scarf and stomps down to the square near her flat. Someone's set up an ice rink around the fountain and she settles into one of the seats by the edge. 

She broods on her irritation with the project, her mother, and that she's right. A shout goes up on the rink and she looks up to see a young man be hurled over the shoulder of another and spun around elegantly. “James, you pillock, put me down!” the man screams.

As James skates, laughing, around the rink Eve pulls out a pencil and opens her sketchpad. She draws the moment where he grabs the younger man first, and the surprised round eyes behind thick glasses and the shock of hair flying around his head.

Eve notices the other pair on the rink, a tall guy pulling a smaller, stockier man along slowly. “Bill, lean forward,” the taller instructs and the other pulls a face. She draws this too, inelegant and graceful together.

James relents and lets the other man down, who thumps his chest with a gloved hand. “What treatment is this, Q? How has this been deserved?”

“I hate you,” Q says, and kisses his cheek. Eve draws that quickly and adds the quote. She likes the contrast in height and the way that they lean into each other. 

Bill is now being led by one hand and, though shaky, he's improved, so Eve sketches the change next to the first and when he finally lets the other man go, she draws that in too with particular emphasis on the two men’s delighted smiles. “Gareth! I'm doing it!”

“All my teaching,” Gareth says, skating backwards lazily.

James skates across, pulling Q behind him easily and stops by them both. “I could get you a plastic penguin thing if you'd like.”

Bill smiles mock-sadly. “Don't have any.”

James crouches in front of Bill. “I will be your penguin,” he says very seriously.

That's Eve’s favourite picture; the one she draws of them all laughing. Bill skates along, leaning on James’ shoulders, and Gareth follows pulling Q, who is clinging to his coattails like an ugly duckling.

It gets dark and they stumble off the ice and cup their hands around hot chocolate, breathing steam and teasing each other. Bill shivers and spots her looking; before she can look away he's balancing on his blades across the wooden decking before collapsing into the chair opposite her.

“Hi,” he says. “You okay?”

Eve smiles as sincerely as she can. “Yeah, sure. I meant to ask, actually, um; I drew you four? For my art project. Can I use it?”

Bill looks very flattered. “Of course. Can we see?” Wordlessly, she pushes the book at him. He flicks through, grinning. “These are amazing, uh-” he checks the name on the cover of the book “-Eve. Chaps, come and look at this.”

The others stagger over. “Hello,” Gareth says politely, and James and Q offer her smiles. “These are excellent.”

Eve blushes. “I need permission before I can display them, is all.”

“You have it,” James rumbles.

“I presume there will be an exhibition?” Q says and Eve nods. “Here.” He writes a string of numbers on the corner of the pad. “Let us know, and we'll come and see it.” 

Eve beams.

* * *

Eve is not much enamoured with the exhibition. “What - why can't you come?” she whines. 

Her mother sighs. “It isn't that we don't want to go, love, we just can't make it.”

Eve looks up at the ceiling, blinking back the damp in her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Bye, mum.”

“Eve, wait-” her mother manages before she hangs up.

She crosses to her desk, slumping in her chair and grabbing her sketchbook. Thumbing to the right page, she hits the numbers angrily, through slightly blurred vision. 

“Hello?” Bill says.

“Hi, Bill, it's Eve, the weird-”

“The artist!” he says happily. “How are you?”

“Yeah, great,” she says, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Listen, the exhibition is on-”

“Tomorrow, 4 pm. Right?” Bill says chirpily. “Why, has the time changed?”

Eve swipes at her eyes. “No, no, just checking you were comin- that you knew.”

“Yeah,” Bill says uncertainly. “Eve, are you sure you're all right?”

“Yeah,” she gasps and hangs up hurriedly.

* * *

Eve is not much enamoured with this waiting business. She texted Bill that morning to let him know where her art was and he sent her three different happy emojis in return; she’s never met anyone who texts so much like a middle-aged woman discovering the emojis for the first time.

The amusement has worn off, however; it's five to four and her expectations are unrealistic but she’s terrified. The other students have been discussing how far their parents and friends have come to see their work and her recurring nightmare for a week has been standing alone by her art for hours as no-one comes to see it. 

Rather like she is now. Eve shivers.

She looks down at her fingers as they compulsively intertwine and twist until it feels like her knuckles will break. There are footsteps, but she doesn't look up.

“I think we're technically early, but no-one stopped us at the door,” Q says uncertainly and Eve’s head snaps up. James grins at her and she cannot help but return it.

“No, it's fine,” she says and they crowd close, cooing over her sketches and paintings.

“This is my favourite,” James says.

“Because you're centre stage in it?” Gareth says dryly, and James grins. “This one is my favourite.” He points to the one of them all laughing.

Bill nods and Q hums. “Look at me,” he smiles, “what a dork.”

James wraps an arm around him. “You're  _ my _ dork.”

Gareth points at his favourite. “How much would I have to pay you for this?”

Eve holds her hands out. “Oh, no, you can have it, after the exhibition.”

“No, I must give you something for it,” Gareth says. “I insist.”

“How about,” Bill interjects, “You buy Eve’s meal if she's free on Friday and up for pizza and bad conversation with us.”

Gareth nods and the four look at her expectantly. “Sure,” she manages, smiling uncontrollably and a little choked up.

They turn back to the paintings and Bill stands at her side. “Are you sure you're all right?” he says, softly.

She nods, beaming at him. “I am now.”


End file.
